


A Boreas Wind Blows

by Bookkeepper



Category: Guns of Icarus Alliance
Genre: (holy shit that was insane), Action/Adventure, Airships, Chaladon is best faction, Defense mode, Gen, Goldfish (ship), Northwind Alliance FTW, Politics, Set at the start of the Seven Days' Strife of Oct. 2018, Shrike (ship), Sky Pirates, Slightly more intrigue, Steampunk, except without the drills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkeepper/pseuds/Bookkeepper
Summary: The crew of the Minnow just want to get by, making a living without being involved in Faction politics. The problem is, everything in this blistered world revolves around Faction politics. An unplanned breakdown, a war on the horizon, and a surprise attack mean they might not have the luxury of avoiding it anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

Florian Obermair stood by the helm, looked out at the distant tower of a mining outpost in the distance, and sighed. It was a very world-weary sigh, the kind that one gets when a minor annoyance explodes into a very large problem. Or, in this case, when the stuttering in the main engine turns out to be a blown head gasket.

 _So much for easy money_ , she thought to herself. She had picked the simple convoy escort job for exactly that reason – no pirates were stupid enough to attack so close to a major faction’s forward base, after all. She had already set aside a chunk of the profits to get new parts for the main engine, but now it seemed that the crew would have to spend all that and more to get an entirely new one. 

Word had spread quickly about their mechanical issue, and the lead ship in the convoy had reduced speed as a courtesy, though it was an empty gesture. The _Minnow_ was much faster than these slow, ponderous merchant ships, and even running on just light engines she could easily keep pace. All that the slowdown really accomplished was another delay, and a few extra hours until they hit Ridge Forest. She was interrupted from her thoughts by one of her crew pulling aside the curtain that separated the pilot’s nest from the enclosed cabin.

“I suppose you’ll be up here sulking till we dock, then?” teased Karim, her trusty second mate and artillerist.

“Well, someone ought to be at the helm while we’re underway,” she quipped, “and besides, I can sulk if I want to. Captain’s privilege.”

“I can take a turn, if you like. Promise I won’t crash. Did enough of that with my old ship,” he replied with a wry grin. “Really, you should check in back there. Virgil seems ready to panic and you know I’m no good at dealing with that stuff.”

“Fine,” she acquiesced, “You have the helm, Mr. Koek. At least until I deal with the kids.”

“Who you callin’ ‘mister’? I used to be a captain myself,” he complained, but his expression belied his relief at not having to deal with their newest crewmate as he settled in behind the wheel.

Florian stepped back through the curtain into the cabin area, heading aft. The _Minnow_ was a Goldfish-styled airframe, sleek and narrow with angled fins that gave it its namesake appearance. It was an old design, first made many years ago by the shipwrights in Cathedral, but its longevity spoke to its success as a privateer vessel. The ability to carry heavy weaponry and still keep pace with convoys made it an ideal vessel for escorting shipments through the dangerous and highly contested air lanes of the Midland plains.

The pilot made her way to the aft deck, containing the balloon pump which circulated the lift gas that kept the ship aloft. Glancing down the narrow stairway to port, she could see Virgil, their recently acquired and quite inexperienced engineer, pacing back and forth, muttering. Coming to a decision, she turned to head further aft, where the wooden deck turned to the naked metal beams of the tail boom. Gripping the safety rope, she cautiously worked her way back towards the main engine, and her chief engineer hard at work.

“What’s the damage? Please tell me you have something, Evelyn.”

There was a noise that might have been a muffled curse from where the engineer had stuck her head under the cowling. Evelyn Spade extracted herself from the engine, seemingly unconcerned with how she was on the wrong side of the safety rope, and dropped a chunk of twisted metal onto a small pile of similar looking bits.

“See that?”

“I do. Care to enlighten me?”

“None of that should be all bent up the way it is. There’s no avoiding it, Cap – we’re gonna need a new engine. On the bright side, the odds of anything else failing in a similarly catastrophic manner are just about zero,” she said with a shrug.

“Fantastic. Don’t let the newbie hear you, or he’ll say you’ve jinxed us or something. And -,“ Florian hesitated, and then continued in a lower voice, “just pack it up for now. We need to talk about our options. Crew meeting in 5.”

Evelyn, recognizing the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly. “Right. Didn’t realize…I mean, I thought we were doing better with finances. Okay. I’ll get this cleaned up.”

Florian worked her way back to the aft deck, then headed down the stairs to find Virgil. A quick glance at the fore deck showed it was empty, save for the mounted guns. She turned right and checked the storage area tucked underneath the main cabin and pilot’s nest. When that, too yielded no panicky young engineers, she crossed to the starboard side of the ship and headed aft down to the smaller maneuvering engines.

“O’Sullivan!” she barked, and suppressed a grin at how the lanky man startled.

“Captain! Sir! Just making sure there’s no more engine problems here. Triple checked. And, well, I figured I must have missed something checking the main engine even though Chief Spade checked it after me and she said there was no way we both missed something obvious so it must have been some tiny fault, so, uh, right. Checking engines.” He offered a belated salute, but aborted the motion halfway through and ended up just flapping his arm.

“I told you, I keep things less formal on this ship. No need to salute. And it is good thinking, checking the turning engines, but you needn’t be so obsessive over it. We’re all taking a break, anyways. Crew meeting.”

“Ah. That’s, good. Um, can I ask, sir, is it – it’s not about me? Did I do something wrong? Because really, I don’t mind if you blame me, I kinda blame myself, if I’m honest here-“

Florian cut in quickly before he broke into another long ramble. “Virgil. Look at me.” She waited for him to stop avoiding her eyes, which considering how he was the taller of the two, was quite a feat. “No one on this ship blames you. It’s just rotten luck, on top of a whole other pile of bad trips lately, and we need to discuss our next move. Alright?”

He nodded, for once having enough self-awareness to realize that his response didn’t need to be a run-on sentence, and Florian turned to lead the way back to the upper deck.

 

* * *

 

Florian stood, leaning on the railing by the helm, facing the rest of the crew. Karim had grabbed an empty ammo case to use as a seat; Evelyn mirrored her captain, letting a wooden post support her weight, while Virgil stood straight, nervously fiddling with the ends of the checkered scarf he wore.

“So, the short of it is this: we probably don’t have the money to get an entire engine, I don’t know how the hell we’re going to find an engine for sale at a military outpost in the middle of Ridge Forest, and I certainly don’t want to try and make it back to Garrow on just the turners. Ideas?”

“Well, Cap, this convoy is bound to be carrying lost of parts. Maybe enough to build a full engine. Wouldn’t hurt to ask around, and if anyone can rig an engine from just spare parts, well, I can do it.” suggested Evelyn.

“All this stuff’s already sold, you know. This is just the delivery. We’d have to buy it off the Order, and we all know your opinion on that,” Karim pointed out.

“Why can’t we just get another job and pay it off at the outpost? All these convoy ships have to go somewhere, don’t they?”

“Easier said than done, kid,” stated Evelyn. “Karim’s got a point. Once we hit the outpost, most of these traders will tag along with whatever Northwind Alliance forces are heading in their direction. And if we stick around, the only thing that pays at a military base is mercenary work.”

“But we are mercenaries, right? What’s wrong with getting paid by one of the Factions?”

“The problem is that we stay out of Faction politics. Period. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Karim paused, noticing that Florian had been oddly quiet. “Tell him, Captain. Not sure why you’re so quiet, you argued this with me all the time. Don’t tell me you’re -”

“It might be our best option,” she said, slowly and carefully, as if testing out the idea.

Evelyn exploded. “No! Absolutely not! The Factions don’t care about the little groups like us! They’re all the same, sending privateers off to die so they can save their own ships. We can’t do it!”

Florian stood tall, instilling authority in her words. “Chief Spade. That is enough. I wouldn’t think of it except that it might be our last resort. I don’t want to do this either – but we’ll consider it if nothing else works out.”

At that, the engineer huffed, then nodded. “Gotcha. Just you wait, Cap, as soon as we dock I’ll scout around, get us a nice shiny engine.”

“I certainly hope so. And Virgil, relax, she probably won’t kill you for suggesting it.”

“ _Probably?!_ ” sqeaked the newbie, trying to hide behind Karim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I wrote another thing. This one focuses more on Alliance gameplay, and references some of the real-life meta-game events that are incorporated into official game lore. Mainly, the Seven Days Strife, where Anglean players triggered a war, formed an alliance with Chaladon and the Baronies, and then blitzed their way to the objective in just a week which was kinda scary but hey at least I was on the winning side, being in Chaladon and all.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, Cap! Beautiful weather today, and seems like we’ve got a tailwind too,” greeted Evelyn, entirely too cheerful for someone who had just finished the early morning watch.

Florian grunted in response, angling her hat to block the bright sun which had just cleared the horizon. “You know you don’t have to always take third watch, right? We could make the kid do it, haze him a bit.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m used to it now anyways. Gives me time to think. Speaking of – About yesterday. I…was a bit hasty. It just…really bothers me, ‘specially with what happened back home in Cathedral, you know?”

Florian considered her carefully. “I suppose that’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get, huh?”

Evelyn at least had the decency to look a little abashed. “What can I say? Just part of my massive superiority complex.”

“I’ll accept it, then. Watch your step going down the stairs, don’t want to trip and bruise your ego. And Evelyn?,” she called out just as the engineer was leaving, causing her to glance back.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for getting us in this mess. And don’t say it’s not my fault – it’s part of the job. A good captain ought to take responsibility for their crew.”

The engineer gave a small smile in return, and headed off to find some breakfast.

* * *

“Karim, go drag O’Sullivan away from the engines. He’ll probably want to see this,” Florian called down to the gunner, inspecting his weapons on the main deck. The Manticore Heavy Hwacha was the centerpiece of the _Minnow_ ’s arsenal – quite literally front and center. Karim pulled himself away from polishing the decorative golden lion heads that were mounted on it, glittering under the midday sun. He glanced out at the horizon, their destination now in view, and let out a low whistle.

“Looks like the tree huggers are out in force. Wonder what’s got them so bothered?”

“Like you said: Faction politics. Still, I’ve never seen the islanders massing so far inland. Something big must have happened.”

The Ridge Forest outpost had sprung up around a mining rig, draped in aged canvas to provide some manner of protection from the elements. It towered over the makeshift docks and buildings gathered around it. The docks themselves were barely visible past the flotilla of airships that had gathered there. The vast majority of them were flying the emerald green banner of the Order of Chaladon, though through her spyglass Florian could make out a handful marked in the cold blue of the Anglean Republic, and a few clusters bearing the royal purple of the Fjord Baronies. Further out, there stood several narrow towers haphazardly constructed out of rusted metal. The artillery mounted on them, however, was much less rusty.

She was stirred from her speculation by Virgil’s cries of astonishment.

“Look at that one! I’ve never seen a ship so big!”

At the center of a fleet of smaller attack ships, a Vanquisher-class battleship hung in the sky. Its four double-stacked balloons were capped with featherlike fins, and the superstructure hanging from them was easily quadruple the size of the _Minnow_ , with multiple decks.

“Must be nearly two hundred fifty meters. I wonder how much ‘balancing of the natural way’ they have to do to build each one of those,” supplied Evelyn from the cabin, her voice filled with both scorn and awe.

“ _How_ do they build it? That’s way too big for the Cathedral shipyards! And look, those balloons seem way too small to lift it, it’s impossible!”

“The rumors say some kind of secret lifting gas tech. No idea where they got it,” said Karim.

“Before you get distracted with engineering nonsense and math and such, let’s focus for a moment. All hands, prepare for docking within the hour! Be ready for some kind of inspection, I bet the Guild just loves to sneak their agents into convoys all the time. Just stick to the facts, we’re an independent crew out of Garrow, with nothing to hide. Soon as that’s done, Virgil and I will go collect our payment. Evelyn, find me an engine. Karim, find me a job that’s not handed down by some faction. We’ve got a busy day ahead, people!”

* * *

 Virgil followed the captain, making an effort not to be distracted by the crowds of people scurrying about the docks. Traders, privateers, mercenaries and soldiers all went about their business. Some were here to support the Northwind Alliance; some reviled the Loess Collaboration with equal passion; some just wanted to get paid. Rumors and gossip were exchanged as freely as coin.

Captain Obermair suddenly grabbed his arm, and he realized that he’d been staring at a Baronite Marshall, wearing a magnificent coat and shouting Northwind Alliance propaganda, emphasizing his words by gesturing with an honest-to-gods sword, of all things.

“Stay focused, O’Sullivan. Don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, I promise.” The apology spilled out without conscious thought, and he hoped the captain wasn’t too annoyed by it. He could tell she didn’t like him apologizing over every little thing. But she wasn’t actually bothered by him, or so he thought. Hopefully. She was a good captain, and she really did care about her crew, and he was so glad he had a place on the _Minnow_.

Right. Focused. It was easy to keep track of Captain Obermair with his above-average height; all he had to do was track her hat, a turquoise newsboy cap perched jauntily atop her head, and he wouldn’t be separated. In fact, he was doing such a good job of it that he didn’t look at his feet and thus did not see the bit of rope he tripped over.

He squawked and flailed his arms about, but luckily, before he hit the ground, he slammed into some other person standing nearby and remained more-or-less vertical. He was collecting himself when the stranger turned around with a scowl. Not so lucky then.

“Watch your step, boy!” he grumbled, but Virgil barely heard him as he was distracted by what the man wore on his head. It was some kind of hood, but sewn on top of it were two little flaps that almost looked like ears. The overall effect was almost…cute? He then realized that staring at a hostile stranger was probably not smart and opened his mouth to apologize quickly and concisely. What came out instead was a strange sort of panicky noise.

“You got a problem with me?”

The stranger stepped forwards and grabbed him roughly by his vest, and Virgil was trying very hard not to make an even more panicky noise when Captain Obermair stepped in.

“Hey, let’s be civil here. Code of conduct and all that,” she said, indicating with a jerk of her chin to where a pair of Chaladonian soldiers stood on guard duty. “He’s just a newbie, first time out in the wide world and all that. Give him a break.”

The stranger glanced at the soldiers and reconsidered, releasing Virgil and taking a step back. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry, really. Uh. Nice hood?” stammered the engineer. The stranger turned away, but as the captain began to drag him back in the correct direction he could have sworn the man’s scowl had eased up at the compliment.

“Can’t leave you alone for a _second_ …” muttered Captain Obermair, “come on, it’s not far now.”

Soon enough, they arrived at the berth of the lead ship of the convoy. The trading ship _Polaris_ was docked much closer to the side of the docks that faced the massing fleet, likely to facilitate the transfer of cargo. Virgil followed his captain up the gangplank, and waited nervously while she got the attention of a woman in a long coat and fancy hat who had been yelling at a motley crew shifting crates around.

“Captain Wa Nai,”she greeted, giving a nod of respect to her fellow airship pilot.

“Captain Obermair, a pleasure as always. I assume you are eager to collect your fee, get that engine sorted out, yes?” At Florian’s nod, she continued, her thick accent not managing to impair her speech, “A real shame about that, especially such a fine ship. I could never quite handle flying in combat like you. But never mind, we are both busy, have places to be.”

The woman turned and called over one of her crew. “Natani, get over here! Payment for the good ship _Minnow_ and her crew.” A man in a woolen long coat with gilded buttons responded, hurrying over with a bag of coins.

“Here you are, the other half of your payment, upon safe arrival in port. All counted out in advance,” said the man.

“Better count it for yourself, then. Those Mercantile types will always shortchange you,” interrupted a soldier dressed in Chaladonian armor, who appeared from behind Natani.

As he handed over the bag, he rolled his eyes. “I told you already, I’m from Faron. You know, Arashi territory? I’m not with the Guild.”

“And I already told _you_ that you’re not to go anywhere without an escort. Security precautions. Once a Merc, always a Merc,” spat the soldier.

“If you would stop harassing my crew, please and thank you,” interjected Captain Wa Nai. “Back to work, come now.”

Florian watched as Natani returned to the group managing the cargo, followed by the soldier who eyed him with suspicion.

“So what if he has ties to the Guild? He is good with the finances. Anyways, a good day to you, Captain.”

“Just one more thing, Kira,” Florian said, stepping towards the other captain. “I was wondering about your plans from here. Any chance you need protection for the return trip?”

The woman shook her head, frowning. “No, no. From here we go right on to Oblivion Pass. Leaving as soon as we are loaded, I think. I am sorry, but I do not think your ship will be ready so soon. I cannot be of any more help, Florian, I have a schedule to keep.”

“Ah, that’s too bad, then. Safe skies, Captain. Let’s go,” she added to a distracted Virgil, waving farewell to the _Polaris_.

Florian headed back through the crowds, thinking. They’d have to restock some supplies while in port, and she wanted to keep the newbie out of trouble while giving plenty of time for Karim and Evelyn to turn up something. She secured the bag of coins in pocket under her jacket, safe from pickpockets, and began to look around for the makeshift markets that always sprung up around busy ports for the purpose of ripping off airship crews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not actually a Base Defense map near Ridge Forest, so I made one up. Also heads up, this is gonna involve a base defense mission. Spoilers, I guess?
> 
> I tried to convey the vast range of clothing and cultures present in the world of Guns of Icarus. Hamster hood guy is a nod to some of the more...questionable fashion choices you can wear in the game. I also spent 20 minutes messing around to make character 'art' for all four crew members, which I might post somewhere. Virgil was by far the easiest - as the noob of the group, he is wearing the default costume, which is the only outfit a new player would have unlocked!
> 
> Almost every named character that's not part of the main crew of four is a cheeky reference to some other player that I have friended (and even Karim and Evelyn are very oblique references to some usernames).


	3. Chapter 3

Karim wandered the docks, scanning the ships for any familiar markings. He had already approached one, recognizing the stylized burning slice of cake painted on the balloon, but that had been a dead end – the crew were already preparing to depart. He approached his next target, a Squid with a winged gear emblem.

He navigated the crowds easily, making a beeline towards the bearded man lounging on a crate at the base of the gangplank with flask in hand.

“Wynters!,” he called in greeting, and the aforementioned old pilot peered at him, his eyes obscured by dark goggles.

“If this is about the Cult of Choppy, I’m not interested. Or if this is about the moonshine and the orphanage, it was all Captain Valentine’s idea, okay? I had nothing to do with that – oh. I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

“Sure do. Remember the original Aerodrome?”

He leaned forwards for a closer look, and a moment later his face broke out into a wide, toothy grin. “Ahh, Karim! What brings you to my doorstep? What have you been up to?”

“I’m looking for work. Well, my crew is. I signed up with some independents, wanted to put in some time messing around with gunnery. A real up-and-coming captain, too. But we need some coin, or a new engine, or both, if you can oblige.”

“Engine trouble? Well, the _Slippery Bastard_ runs on a Haskins Imports model, so I only carry those parts.”

Karim shook his head. “I thought not. We’re looking for a heavy, a Chung’s model three. What about the rumor mill? Last I heard you were doing courier work. Is there anyone hiring nearby?”

The old pilot scratched his greying beard in thought. “If I’m reading the situation right, your independent crew wants to avoid the major Factions. Seems to be a popular sentiment in the Midlands. In that case, you’ll need to head east. All the messages I’ve run recently indicate something big is going on in Burren. You could try your luck up north – I hear there’s a raiding party around Blackcliff, and the locals are willing to pay for protection.”

 “Probably won’t make it without an engine,” Karim grimaced. “Still, thanks for the intel. I’ll buy you drinks sometime. Come find me if you find yourself docked in Garrow.”

Wynters raised his flask in a toast. “Cheers to that. Safe travels, wherever the wind takes you next.”

As he walked away, Karim sighed. ‘ _Another dead end. I hope Evelyn’s having better luck…’_

* * *

 

“Captain on deck!” said Florian, more out of habit than anything else, as she carried their new supplies up the gangplank. Virgil followed with a set of various ammunition types. Karim was waiting on the fore deck, perusing a newspaper for work offers, or any bounties they could collect. He glanced up at her.

“Nothing yet, Captain. Seems everyone here is headed off to fight in whatever war is going on this time. Find anything good?”

She nodded. “The one good thing to come out of this mess – they’re selling Chaladonian goods for cheap. Which means we can afford this,” she said as she pulled the lid off the barrel she had been carrying. Inside was an assortment of produce. Karim inspected a dried slice of fruit, impressed.

“It’s crazy! They’ve got all kinds of vegetables, like this, here, apparently this is a ‘sweet potato’ – looks like a normal potato, except it’s bigger than my fist, look!”

Karim gently nudged the potato in question away from his face. “That’s normal sized for the eastern provinces, you know. You’re just used to the stuff in Garrow. It’s closer to the Wastes, after all, so the farms aren’t able to grow as much, or as well.”

“And everyone knows Chaladon has some secret to farming – somehow they still export more than the Baronies, even with all that farmland they have. Found a few more goodies, too,” Florian said, pulling out some kind of fibrous brown sphere. “It’s called a coconut!”

Karim looked at it dubiously. “What kind of nut?”

“Looks weird. How do you eat it?”

Florian looked at Virgil, then turned to Karim, who shrugged. She frowned down at the coconut in her hand and tried to peel off some of the husk.

“Maybe you break it open?” suggested the gunner.

 “Well, that explains why it was so cheap, I guess,” said Florian, with a wry grin. “Still, we’re well within our rations budget, and we’ve got better food than we’ve been eating for a week! Let’s get this stored properly. When Evelyn gets back, we’ll split the shares from our payment, though I’m holding most of it in reserve for that new engine.”

“Fine by me. Got to pay the ship before we pay ourselves,” Karim responded, liberating the sweet potato from the grasp of a still-amazed Virgil and closing up the barrel.

* * *

 

Evelyn returned two hours later, with only a few spare bearing sleeves and an oil catch can.

“Sorry, Cap. Tried my best, but it turns out that fleet out there is departing soon, probably around sunrise tomorrow. They sucked up every part they could find for their own ships, in their typical faction military way. Leave nothing for the little guys, ‘n all that.”

Another crew meeting was called, this time crowded around the tiny space that could be considered a galley down in the already-cramped cargo hold. After hearing the list of options Karim had turned up, Florian and Evelyn agreed that there was no point chasing a lead all the way out to Blackcliff. Virgil, meanwhile, had gotten distracted trying to open the mysterious coconut in increasingly aggressive ways.

“Well, it looks like we’re staying docked for a while. We can scrape together some extra cash around the outpost, do some odd jobs, and hope that someone flies in with the parts we need.”

“Actually, Cap…I’ve been doing some introspection,” started Evelyn, hesitantly.

“Must be quite something if she’s breaking out the fancy words,” murmured Karim, earing a glare from the captain.

“I could tolerate it if we got a job from a faction, just this once. Anything to get us back in the sky, because I want to get out of here soon as possible. Actually, no – not anything. We could get something non-combative, right? Running supplies or messages?”

“You’re sure?”

“…Yeah. But just this once.”

Florian nodded, then turned to her gunner. “Karim?”

“Hey, you know I’m not the one to complain about politics. Money is money, and a one-time job to get back up and running is certainly worth it.”

“Virgil, your opinion?”

She was answered by loud thud a yelp, and turned in her chair to see the newbie nursing his thumb.

“O’Sullivan, why do you have a mallet?”

“Sorry, sir. Trying to get this blasted thing open, it’s hard as a rock. I’m not convinced it’s even edible at all! Managed to whack my thumb pretty good. Um. I, uh, can you repeat the question? The first one, I mean, because I got the mallet one. Captain.”

“Are you fine with a one-time non-combat job with Chaladon paying?”

“You’re asking me, sir?” Florian decided to stare at the man until he obliged, which took all of 5 seconds. “Uh, well, I can’t say that I’m opposed. As long as they don’t pay us in coconuts.”

“Alright, that settles it. I’ll be heading off to find whoever’s in charge around here. Evelyn, try to keep the kid from hurting himself.”

* * *

 

The sun was setting as Florian departed the _Minnow_. Lanterns were being lit everywhere, especially on the east side of the docks where the large fleet would continue loading supplies through the night. She noticed the _Polaris_ was already gone.

She barely made it down to the closest intersection when she was approached by a woman wearing a long white coat, wearing a beaded flower hairpiece.

“Are you with the _Minnow_? The ship looking for work?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” she replied, instantly wary of the stranger. It wasn’t unusual that she knew about the _Minnow_ ; Karim was well-connected and rumors travelled fast. But for someone to track her down was…unsettling.

“I think we can help each other. We seem to have opposite problems, you see. You have a crew with a ship stuck in dock, and I have a ship in need of a crew.”

Perhaps it was legitimate. It would certainly be a stroke of good luck – and if this woman was desperate enough to come to her, there was a chance she could negotiate payment a bit higher. She took a step closer.

“Florian Obermair, captain. And you?”

“The name’s Petriquiche. Well, just Petri is fine. Seems I came to the right place.”

“Tell me more about what you have in mind, then, Petri.”

“Certainly. Mind if we walk?”

As Petri turned to lead them on a meandering course through the docks and around the makeshift town, Florian caught a glimpse of a medal pinned to her coat lapel. She didn’t recognize what it was, but she could infer enough from the symbol on it: a stem that branched into three clusters of leaflets.

“So I take it you’re someone important around here?”

“What, this?,” she said, motioning to the medal, “this was from a while ago. I don’t really try to be part of the leadership, but I help out here and there. Organize things.” Taking in Florian’s carefully neutral expression, she added, “I take it you’re not one for politics, but if you’ll hear me out…”

“Well, I’m listening. Why do you need a ship crewed?”

Petri took a moment to glance at the massive armada. “There’s something going on – I’m sure you’ve picked up on that – and most of the fleet’s departing tomorrow. But it’s impossible to keep it secret, not with that many ships. Every raiding party looking for an easy target from here to Blackcliff will know that this outpost will be severely underdefended. I’ve pulled in all the privateers who are willing to stick around, but I could use another ship.”

“And you just happen to have a ship with no crew?”

“Well, it happens to be my ship – or rather, a gift from the Order, for my services. I don’t have a decent crew right now, and I’d rather not fly in the first place. I’ll be honest, my piloting ability is average at best.”

“I’d prefer something not on the front lines, so to speak. I don’t want to die on behalf of anyone’s faction.”

“You’d just be defending from pirates. And if it bothers you, it wouldn’t be the faction that hires you. I’ll pay you from my own finances. I’ve proven my loyalty; the Order doesn’t even ask who I hire anymore, so nobody needs to know besides us.”

Florian frowned in thought. It could be the job they needed. “For how long, and how much?”

Petri removed her darkened glasses to look her in the eye. “I can get some reinforcements here in a week’s time. So, for a week, I could go as high as 1200. Each.”

Florian exhaled. That was a very generous amount of coin, far more than what she was expecting. But she needed more than the money. “I might take that, _if_ you can get me a Chung’s model three heavy engine as well.” She expected the other woman to negotiate the payment down for that, but it was worth a shot.

“Hmm…how about this. If you keep my ship intact for that week, I’ll let you have one of her engines. A model four.”

Florian stopped walking, floored. “You’re serious!? That’s too good of a deal. You must know something,” her tone shifted, almost accusatory, “you must have reason to expect an attack, or you wouldn’t be so desperate.”

Petri shrugged. “Maybe so. But this tiny little outpost isn’t just military. There are good people here, and I’m trying to protect them. Good people, I should add, like your crew.”

“Is that a threat?”

The other woman shook her head. “Just an observation. If you stay here to try and finish your repairs, you’ll be stuck here with the rest of us. And raiders won’t care about your affiliations either way.”

The light breeze blowing from the north suddenly felt much colder. She could take the _Minnow_ and run for it with an engine down, and hope that whatever pirates or mercenaries Petri was expecting would let a stricken ship pass unmolested. If she stayed, then her crew would be caught up in the fight either way. If they could get a working ship and a replacement engine out of the deal – not to mention plenty of coin – well, it would be stupid of her not to take it.

“I’ll need to consult with my crew. And I want to see this ship of yours first.”

“Fair enough. I can show you tomorrow morning. I’m glad we can count on you.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet, you realize.”

“Yeah, well, once you see the ship, I’m certain that you will. Have a good night, captain.” And with that, the woman headed off into the crowd, her white coat flowing in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Captain Wynters, the guy from my other story set in this universe! What a coincidence! The original Aerodrome is, in fact, before my time, but I hear the Aerodrome tournaments were some of the best events back in the day.  
> Captain Valentine references the magnanimous Jesse Cox - look up his videos on Guns of Icarus, they're good fun.  
> The coconut bit was not really planned but sorta developed out of a discussion of what food would be available, so thanks to the lore nerds for that one.  
> And yes, I am aware that Petriquiche is a self-aware artificial intelligence who lives on the internet in real life, but I couldn't work that into the story. Petri gets a slightly larger role in the story as thanks for her putting up with me always bringing up that one typo in the chat (it was pretty funny, actually).  
> (also I know you consider yourself a mediocre pilot but I would consider your junker a quite dangerous ship tbh)


	4. Chapter 4

“Looks like a feathered dart,” said Karim, unimpressed.

“Looks like a warship,” appraised Evelyn.

“Why are all their ships so feathery?” asked Virgil, though by the look on his face he was still suitably impressed by the ship presented in front of them.

“Ever been to Chaladon? There’s trees everywhere. It looks decorative but it breaks up the silhouette of their ships, makes it impossible to spot them among the green hills. Kinda silly lookin’ in this forest, though.” Karim was the first to step up the gangplank to the docked ship. “Let’s have a look, then.”

Florian stood at the back of the group, trying to gauge the reactions of her crew. Her trusty gunner was as professional as ever; Evelyn was a little subdued (and it wasn’t hard to guess why) but her eyes lingered on the ship’s engines; Virgil was in awe of the rather unique design.

The old Goldfish airframe had been designed to fill many roles, from trading vessel to escort to skirmisher. The Chaladonian Shrike, however, was clearly made for war. It was sleek and deadly, with a flat knife-like protrusion sprouting from the bow. The ribbed balloon appeared to be too small to lift the airframe, like the other Chaladonian ships. Despite the artistry of its construction, it was not at all luxurious. There were two decks, both open to the elements and absolutely spartan, with no accommodations.

In length, it was about the same as the _Minnow_ – 60 meters, give or take. The vertical profile was only half that of the older Goldfish, though, and it was more narrow as well. ‘ _A small target. Probably hard to hit,_ ’ thought Florian as she stepped onto the upper deck. It was laid out symmetrically, a pair of Whirlwind gatling guns mounted near the balloon lift gas pump near the bow, pointed ninety degrees out to port and starboard respectively. Amidships, she lingered next to Karim as he appraised the storage cabinets clustered around a central pillar covered in strange piping and technology that seemed to grow up and merge into the balloon.

“Have a look at this, Cap!”

Florian followed the excited noises of the engineer to the aft, where not one, but two heavy engines were securely mounted, slightly elevated from the rest of the deck. Evelyn had already opened up inspection panels on the port engine’s armored casing, and grinned at her as she approached.

“Chung’s model four, as advertised! All new and shiny. If we get one of these out of this – oh, stars above, I can’t wait. I hear they re-worked the drivetrain and tuned the fanblades. You get a bit less thrust but they cut the weight and the windup time is beautiful!”

“I take it to mean that you’re happy with it?”

Evelyn nodded, then gave a slight frown. “Well, not happy with the situation, of course. But I think the payment might be worth it.”

She let the engineer return to her inspection, and turned to go examine the lower deck. Virgil was currently poking at balloon pump, still caught up in how the ship could possibly fly. Karim waited at the top of one of the curved staircases that wrapped around and down to the lower deck from amidships. “Shall we?”

At the bottom, a single light engine was centered pointing aft. Ammunition stores were tucked under the stairs, but Karim was drawn to a pair of Manticore Heavy Hwachas, pointed 90 degrees outwards, mirrored like the gatlings up above.

“Oh, yeah. I could see the port one from the dock, but I really hoped that there’d be two,” he said with a grin, slipping into one of the padded seats attached to the heavy turrets and testing the foot pedals.

 Florian, meanwhile, was distracted by the helm, stationed at the fore end of the lower deck, a few meters away. She let a hand rest gently on the wooden spokes of the wheel, locating the throttle, and above it, the altimeter, the compass of course… There was one piece of equipment that was unfamiliar, attached by wires to a complicated looking box.

“Karim, seen anything like this? I think it’s got electrics…”

He glanced over from where he was testing gun arcs. “Actually, I might. Considering the Angleans around here it could be their version of fleet comms – radio electric stuff?”

“Makes sense that they’d give one of their Wardens top-of-the-line gear, I suppose.”

“At least they have a signal lamp for backup. I’m impressed with the firepower packed into this tiny frame. Shame we only get it for the job, I’d love to see how it fares in combat.”

Florian _hmm_ ’d in agreement. She checked the view from the helm, noting that the heavy guns obscured her line of sight to either side. There was still a lingering question in her mind, though, and her eyes lingered on the throttle.

Karim picked up on it. “I know that face.”

“What face?” interrupted Virgil, just now making his way to the lower deck.

“This is my normal face!” protested Florian.

“It’s a Pilot thing. I can tell what you’re thinking – why not take a test flight, just see how fast it can go?”

“Me? Never. But…well, I wouldn’t be a responsible captain if I didn’t at least get a feel for the ship. Put it through its paces…” she said with a knowing grin to Karim.

* * *

The shrike drifted slowly away from its berth, propelled by the lightest touch of the throttle.

“Listen to that purr,” said Evelyn from over Florian’s shoulder.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not up fawning over the engines, Chief Spade,” she replied, naturally slipping back into her Captain role as the ship took flight.

“Just waiting to see how long until you drop the pretense of ‘test flight’ and run her up to full speed, Cap.”

“Are you teasing me, Chief?”

“Of course, it’s part of the job descript-“

At that moment, Florian had, in fact, set the throttle to full, intending to shut up the chief engineer. But the sudden acceleration took even her by surprise. Evelyn had to brace herself on Karim’s seat in one of the heavy turrets. Virgil was not so lucky and fell over with a yelp.

“Wow.”

“Bit of an understatement, Captain…”

“I’ll admit it, then – this is cutting edge design, right here. You good, kid?,” she added, helping Virgil up.

“Alright, crew, time to strap in, because I have to try that again.”

Florian sent the shrike dashing around the valley, marveling at the impressive top speed and acceleration. The crew practiced bracing for sudden maneuvers, and within an hour or so Florian was confident enough in her handling of the new ship to start running time trials from the outpost’s mining tower out to the eastern rocky cliffs and back. Eventually, the ship made its way back to the docks.

Warden Petri was waiting as the crew disembarked. “So, what do you think?”

“Definitely fast. The steering’s a bit worse than I’m used to, and whatever that crazy lift gas is, the climb rate seems to suffer. One thing – I’d like to register a new ship name while we’re aboard.”

“We can discuss it – I’d hoped to talk with you anyways about some tactical arrangements.”

Florian left her crew to find what entertainment they could in the tiny outpost town, and prepared for an argument – Evelyn’s suggested name for the ship was fitting, but not exactly complimentary to their employer. Hopefully the Warden had a sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A Shrike](http://gunsoficarusonline.wikia.com/wiki/Shrike?file=Shrike.png)
> 
>  
> 
> Nothing much to say here, except that the shrike is really a fast and deadly ship. Personally I don't fly it much because the crew meta involves one person taking care of the engines the whole match and that seems mean. I love the design though.  
> The thing about blending in with trees is a real thing that happens on certain maps - I can't even describe how many times I have tried to mark a tree on Water Hazard...  
> Also I've realized I could have added pictures for all the ships mentioned so far but I'm too lazy to go and do that now.


	5. Chapter 5

“Bad news, Evelyn,” said Florian as she entered the _Minnow_ ’s small galley. The engineer looked up from where the more senior crew members were teaching the newbie a card game that they had just made up. He seemed to be catching on.

“Awww, they didn’t take the name?”

“The resident Warden was fine with it, actually. It was the technology officer who refused to ‘dirty his ancients-given radio technology with profane words’. But, I did manage to negotiate…”

“Cap, come on, that was the only good thing about this job!”

“No, no, you’ll like it. Crew, for the next week we are officially…the _Frick_.”

The small room was filled with laughter (and Virgil’s applause). Evelyn took a seat, glancing aside at the scattered cards.

“Alright, alright. Before we get too caught up in my genius for ship naming, I have more news. Some of it good. And…some of it worse. They are expecting a raiding party to move in – small pirate fleet, 8 ships at most, spotted by a scout about 2 days away. Good new is, we’re assigned to a squad of four ships, and our squad will be covering the eastern side of the valley. Virgil, you don’t have to raise your hand, what is it?”

“Why is that good?”

“A little lesson on tactics for you. The eastern pass through the cliffs is narrow – can’t fit many ships through there. And the raiders are north of us, so they’re likely to use the northern pass. The most we’ll have to deal with is a flanking attempt.”

“A best case scenario,” said Evelyn, relived. “Anyways, Cap, me and the kid have checked out the auxiliary fuel lines on the _Frick_. All set. Hydrogen mod on the lift gas is installed, too, and all systems check out.”

“And I didn’t even have to ask! Virgil, Karim, take notes.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Karim protested weakly. “She’s making her work sound more complicated than it is! I can’t compete with her fancy vocabulary. All my stuff sounds boring. Like, ‘went ahead and prepared some high-explosive ammo’. It’s impossible to make that sound intelligent.”

“Well it’s time to put those brains to work. Last point on the agenda – memorizing code ciphers and battle plans.”

Florian laid a sheaf of papers on the table to a chorus of (good-natured) complaints.

* * *

 

The next day dawned with trepidation. Only a fraction of the docks remained occupied as the last stragglers departed. A mere ten ships, plus one stricken goldfish, remained to guard the outpost. The crew of the _Frick_ each found their gaze was drawn to the northern mountain pass when not occupied by other tasks, subconsciously searching for the silhouette of distant ships.

And there were other tasks to be done – in the early afternoon, they practiced ferrying an artillery crew out to one of the fixed defense cannons. If the trio of young men (likely local militia) noticed the tense atmosphere on board, they said nothing. Once they were satisfied that everything was working and their ammunition cache was secured, they returned to the docks. Karim managed to get roped into their casual discussion of gunnery along the way.

Near sunset, the _Frick_ left the valley for the first time, scouting out the likely lanes of approach as part of the rotating roster of sentry duty. Florian enjoyed the opportunity to zip around at full throttle, while Karim taught Virgil the art of distinguishing odd-shaped trees from enemy airships via spyglass. Though there was some teasing, the foursome was relieved that only trees had been spotted by the time they returned to base.

The second day began to set a routine. The skies were cloudy that morning as Florian met with the other pilots on base to discuss tactics. The _Frick_ ’s assigned patrol was far more tense. Virgil seemed to be extra clumsy, while Evelyn was more prone to profanity, and Florian just couldn't seem to find the same joy in piloting. Only Karim seemed unperturbed.

“If they were heading this way, someone should have seen them by now.”

“Unless they plan on a night raid,” countered Florian, her mind already racing through scenarios of night battles – too many opportunities for confusion and friendly fire, and wouldn’t that be an ignoble end for her and her compatriots, dying in the dead of night to a supposed ally mistaking them for an enemy. Or worse, what if it wasn't a mistake, but a clever way to avoid paying out…

Virgil was even paler than usual. “Oh, please no, it’s bad enough in the daytime!”

“Possible, but…no sane pilot would risk a night raid when they have the numbers to fight us head on.”

Evelyn spoke up next. “If no patrols have spotted any raiders by sunset tonight, either they’re exceptionally stealthy or they can somehow cover the distance from here to Forests’ Edge in 7 hours. And if it’s the latter, their crews will be pretty fatigued by the time they reach us. I think we’re allowed some optimism.”

* * *

 

The third day, Florian decided over breakfast, was some kind of purgatory. Had the pirates changed course? Changed targets entirely? Perhaps they were delayed by engine trouble, just like her. There was enough downtime between their assigned patrol and stripping down the _Minnow_ ’s dead engine for any salvageable parts to sit down for a card game; Karim taught them a variant of gwent he picked up in a Yeshan brewhouse. Virgil was extra suspicious about the rules, of course.

The fourth day brought with it a fragile sort of hope. The skies were clear, and the only ships spotted were a few light cargo ships, likely independent traders banding together for safety. Not once did they turn southeast towards the outpost. The _Minnow_ became a flurry of activity as the sorry remains of the model 3 engine were removed from their mount with the help of a gantry crane. The daily briefing with the rest of the captains was far more relaxed, with patrol reports interspersed with small talk about which ports had the best trade, or which airlanes to avoid.

So of course their luck didn’t hold on the fifth day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter - this was hard to write mostly cause it's just filling time. Not much happens, but hopefully that reflects the boring-ness of the characters waiting around? Ah well. 
> 
> Gwent is a fictional card game which comes from the Witcher - but for me it's also a reference to the traditional practice lobby password of certain people I used to play comp with.There's perhaps one more chapter before the BIG AIRSHIP BATTLE!


	6. Chapter 6

They still slept in their bunks on the _Minnow_ ; no offence to the hospitality of the locals, but for an airship crew – and especially one running on tight margins – it was common practice.

“Captain,” came a voice from somewhere beyond her bunk. She resolved to ignore it and return to sleep, but then something nudged her insistently. Only one of her crewmates was such an early riser…

“Evelyn, how do you always get up so early…If nothing’s on fire, let me sleep.”

“Florian. There _is_ an emergency. Patrol came back early.”

Florian was catapulted into full awakeness. The uncharacteristically grim expression on the engineer’s face confirmed what she was thinking.

“What’s the report? We have incoming?”

Evelyn shook her head. “Dunno. There’s rumors flying wild, but no official word. Could be anything from those pirates to skywhales to an Arashi fleet group. Anyways, you’ve been summoned. Emergency briefing.”

The captain gave a sigh as she got up. “So much for easy money…” she mumbled to herself. “Right. You grab the boys and get to the _Frick_ , I’ll meet you there after I figure out what the hell’s going on.”

* * *

The small room that served as a headquarters was buzzing with activity. Near the middle, two tables had been shoved together and a map was unfurled on top. Warden Petri stood there, surrounded by a handful of fellow pilots.

“Captain Obermair, good. Just waiting for everyone to get here…I only want to say this once, so bear with me.”

More people filed in – artillery crews, soldiers, and the outpost’s essential personnel. She noticed the Anglean grand technology priest-wizard overlord or whatever he called himself fiddling with his arcane radio tech in the corner.

Within a few minutes, the room was filled. Florian strongly suspected that the people near the back of the crowd were not strictly supposed to be here, as she didn’t recognize them from previous meetings. No doubt they wanted to be among the first to hear the news.

“Alright, people! Quiet down! By now you’ve all probably figured out we have ships on approach. So here’s what our scout has to report,” said Petri. “Early this morning, his crew spotted Arashi ships heading this way. At current speed and wind conditions, they are 5 hours away.”

There was silence for a moment. Then, pandemonium. Voices overlapped – “How many ships?” “Arashi, this far east?” “We need to evacuate!” Florian felt a sense of dread settle in her stomach. An Arashi fleet was coming, likely expecting to find the full might of the Northwind Alliance armada – the one that had departed days ago.

With considerable effort and lots of shouting, the crowd was quieted, and Petri continued.

“Let’s try to stay calm, okay? We have time to prepare, and our position is highly defensible. If we hit their first wave hard, we can make them reconsider. At a guess, they’re tracking the armada; once they find it’s not here, all we have to do is make catching up with their actual target more attractive than a base assault.”

“Sounds like a good strategy,” muttered one of the other pilots – Captain Ayetach, if she remembered correctly.

“This is why we ran those patrols and drills. We just need to hold out until the Arashi decide it’s not worth it. Our scout is already heading back out to get a better idea of their size and ship class; we’ll relay that information as it becomes available. Tech Priest Greg tells me it’s possible he can contact reinforcements as well. I’m going to need all captains up here to discuss strategy – the rest of you, get to your stations!”

* * *

Florian boarded the _Frick_ nearly an hour later, having gone through battle strategies and contingency plans in exquisite detail with the other captains. In her absence, the others had managed to prepare the ship for battle – ammo loaded, preflight checks complete. The news had spread to them as well.

“No big deal,” Karim was telling Virgil, “Arashi ships? They’re all scrapheaps. They hardly build anything themselves – not like they really can, out in the Wastes. They mostly scavenge stuff.” The inexperienced engineer didn't look very reassured.

“So, slight change in plans. We’re still taking the eastern side – but the Arashi League likely has ships to spare, so we can expect a flanking maneuver. The _In-Spire-d_ and the _Deus Vult_ are still with us, but our fourth ship is acting as scout right now and we don’t know when they’ll be joining the squadron.” She fell silent for a moment, trying to find some words of encouragement for her crew.

Karim seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Hey, look. We know it’s bad. You don’t have to do the little pep talk. If we die, at least we die in a blaze of glory, like the _Icarus_ of legend.”

“Actually, I’d prefer the pep talk,” said Virgil.

Florian exhaled. “I just…sorry for getting us into this mess. If – “

“No, we already had this conversation. It’s nobody’s fault. And I knew from the start faction work would be trouble, but it’s too late to run now. We’re the best damn crew from Garrow, and no matter what happens, today we show everyone why you don’t mess with the Midlands.”

“I’ll second that,” Karim responded, and even Virgil seemed to stand taller at the chief engineer’s outburst. As the three of them turned to her, Florian couldn’t help but be immeasurably proud of her crew.

“Well…I would say the best crew in the whole Midlands, surely,” she offered, getting into the spirit. “Let’s send those sand-eaters running!”

* * *

The hours ticked by as the base prepared for an assault. As the projected time was updated again and again by their scout, and all too soon it was time to move the long-range artillery crews into position. The high spirits of the crew were dampened by the impending battle as they made the short journey from the docks to the outer perimeter.

The _Frick_ slid to a graceful halt next to the defense tower, perfectly positioned next to the accessway. The flight with the artillery crew was tense, but for different reasons this time. As they set up the makeshift gangplank Florian headed upstairs from the pilot’s wheel. It felt appropriate to say something, so she did.

“Hey, good luck out there.”

The blonde one – they’d never been properly introduced, she realized – nodded his thanks. “You too. More likely to need it, what with all your zipping around. I always get airsick,” he said with a wry grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure those flying trash heaps don’t even get close enough to shoot back,” Karim chimed in. The artillery cannon packed a punch, but there was always the risk of an enemy ship getting in close and wrecking the gun – or collapsing the tower.

The three of them quickly crossed to the tower. The guy with long-ish hair lingered a moment to help undo the temporary mooring, while his fellows went on ahead.

“I just – thanks, I guess.”

“Well, it’s no trouble for us, dropping you at the top. Better than making you climb all those ladders,” Florian responded.

“Not just for the lift, I mean. What I’m trying to say – look, word gets around. I heard you’re the independent crew. That you didn't have to get involved. So thanks, for helping anyways.”

Before she could respond, he turned and clambered up the ladder after the other two. As she returned to the helm, she couldn't help but recall something Warden Petri had said at their first meeting. _‘There’s good people here.’_

 

* * *

 

 

 

This set of missives was recovered from an Anglean courier ship shot down by an unknown assailant on the border of Garrow and Oblivion Pass. It was heavily encrypted with a cypher. Not knowing what to make of it, the salvagers sold the papers to the Anvala Press, where our people worked diligently to uncover their secrets. Though we were not able to recover all pages or information due to damage and unknown code words, the story presented is fascinating. These short passages only deepen the mystery of the Seven Days Strife.

\- Anvala Press

- **Command** \- Northwind Operation proceeding on schedule. The Arashi have taken the bait. It appears that the ploy has worked. As planned, their headlong charge into the Yeshans has helped clear our way to the objective, while weakening their own forces. Rdbrd has proven to be an invaluable asset in this charge. His efforts have deflected all attacks and spearheaded countless operations while solidifying the privateer forces under our order. We will continue to utilize his expertise. As long as he believes the honor duel is genuine, we should not have an issue with his loyalty. Continue moving forward with the operation. We have shifted a significant portion of our forces, to fight on the Chaladon/Mercantile fronts to distract from the primary goal. We do not want to raise their curiosity. Send scouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Ayetach (aka Mikko). I'm gonna steal your Spire if that's okay.  
> TECH PRIEST GREG is now part of the story. Blame the lore nerds.  
> Arashi ships do have a reputation for being, well, made of scrap. I imagine those models were hella fun to design and they look pretty cool, but really it's like Mad Max style. And as they are a desert people it is appropriate to call them sand-eaters.  
> Man, I got a lot of mileage out of the artillery lads, even though they kinda popped up unplanned.  
> I sourced a lot of CSS voodoo to make the ending notes stand out. Fun fact, those bits are almost verbatim from the official lore. I decided to break it up bit-by-bit over the remaining chapters to give some context for what's happening with the war.


	7. Chapter 7

The Fjord Baronies had spent considerable effort creating a network of border defense emplacements. The original structures were tall, narrow towers held aloft by a spherical balloon – easy to assemble and position in narrow mountain passes. As the original structures were replaced by more permanent defenses, an enterprising shipwright managed to secure salvage rights to the old design, and the Spire was born. The main body lost most of the heavy armor, some engines were added, and what resulted was a sluggish, not especially durable, oddly vertical airframe. The Spire made up for its below average performance with one thing: overwhelming firepower.

The _In-Spire-d_ was, really, an excellent ship to defend the eastern pass. The vertical shape would allow it to rotate and track targets even when confined by rocky cliffs on either side, and any ship would be hard-pressed to survive its withering barrage. Captain Ayetach was experienced, and his crew were solidly dependable. The ship would be vulnerable to being swarmed, however.

The next ship, the _Deus Vult_ , was a Baronite loyalist vessel – a Crusader. Similar to the Shrike, it was a style of light warship granted to high-ranking privateers. In true Baronite style, it had a mostly flat deck, its cylindrical balloons situated pontoon-style on either side but hidden from nearly all angles by armored plating. Its performance was overall quite average, though it traded some durability for a complement of six guns angled outward from the centerline in two rows. The captain, Baron Von-something-that-sounded-like-Teeth (was he even a real baron?) was not quite as experienced, but he knew his ship and its capabilities well.

The fourth ship in their squadron was pulling double duty as their scout ship, flying low (and hopefully unseen) just in front of the first wave of attackers. The _Spanish Inquisition_ was a Squid, though, perfectly suited to the task. The design originated from the Chaladonian isles, back around the time that they had become the Chaladonian isles. The Squid was made to straight-up outrun anything it couldn’t outgun – and the only thing it could reasonably outgun was the unarmed and souped-up racing variant of the same airframe. Its captain (a total blank on the name this time) planned to join the eastern pass squadron as they engaged the enemy, using the Squid’s superb speed and maneuverability to sow confusion behind enemy lines in the crucial opening moments.

Florian refocused her thoughts, running through battle plans and mental checklists.  Karim, on the lower deck with her, prepared the Hwachas. Both port and starboard were loaded and ready to fire. Evelyn, upstairs, ruled over the engines with absolute authority, ready to adjust pressure, relief valves, monitoring fuel lines and coolant. She kept one eye on the allied ships, as she had the best visibility to notice if they sent a message by signal lamp. Virgil triple-checked the belt-fed gatling guns were properly loaded near the bow, hoping that he wouldn’t freeze up when the time came to fire them. Every so often he remembered to scan the skies ahead of the ship with his spyglass for enemies.

As the battle group reached their defensive position near the cliffs, a strange, ethereal warble came from the tech-priest’s Signal-box. It resolved into a voice, fuzzy and ghostly, incanting something that sounded like a prayer.

“That’s damn creepy sounding,” commented Karim, and Florian shushed him. The strange Anglean man who made the device work had explained to her that it would convey messages of importance from the base tower. The voice continued a moment, then stopped, and restarted in a more audible tone.

“Group two, be advised that the enemy is now visible to the north. They will be in artillery range shortly, that we may correct their error of existence. Some number of ships has split to the east, and should be within your sector shortly. This I convey, by the Signal.”

It hissed briefly, then fell silent once more. Moments later, the valley behind them echoed with the distant sound of the large cannons firing.

“Alright, crew! We’ve already taken care of the pep talk, so just sound off!”

Karim was first, voice steady. “Ready to rain hell, captain!”

 “Ready on gatlings, sir! And on standby to repair, as well. Sir!”

“Ready to score us a shiny new engine, cap’n!” Evelyn was cheerful, but there was a slight edge to her voice.

In the shadow of the mountain pass, they waited.

* * *

 

“Enemy spotted ahead!” shouted Virgil (perhaps a bit louder than necessary), spyglass raised to his eye. In the distance, a spot of brown was visible against the green ridges. The Arashi balloons were sand-colored, to match the desert where they were assembled, but they stood out here.

“Go on Virgil, call spots!”

“What, me? Uh…”

“Yes, you. You’re the one with the spyglass pointing at them.”

The junior engineer held up his spyglass, quickly cataloging the ships and armaments he could see.

“I see, six, no seven contacts, just now coming into view. Looks like three Hunter-class…yeah, and the rest are smaller Raider-class. Three Hunters, four Raiders.” He flicked the ring attached to the primary lens to zoom in, checking his assessment. Then, he grabbed a small compass from his belt and held it up with one hand while looking through the spyglass, checking off their headings.

“Starting from heading one-five-oh, and continuing southward, I mark, uh, contact A, B, C, D, E, and F,” he finished lamely.

“At least try, kid. You need creative tags that are hard to guess. Part of the whole cipher thing, right?” Evelyn paused as she took the spyglass and surveyed the ships for herself.

“Let’s see, I mark contacts Art, Basin, Creed, Dark, Randall, Fallow, and Grain.”

“Why Randall? Why not something that starts with E? Who is Randall?”

“Harder to guess. And Randall knows what he did…”

“Enough chit-chat up there! Swabbie, Gunner, to battle stations! Chief Spade, let our allies know about our tags.”

The Signal-box crackled again, and Evelyn winced at the grating noise.

“Spotters confirm the sand heretics are now visible in the eastern pass. Group two, the artillery cannot get a firing angle. Engage them, and bring victory with haste. Group one, hold position. This I convey, by the Signal.”

“And go ahead and tell them that, too.”

Evelyn complied, adding the requisite encryption to the message in her head before tapping out the sequence of short-long flashes.

[KA MARK 7 FROM 105 ART BASIN CREED DARK RANDALL FALLOW GRAIN BR GROUP 2 ENGAGE EC] _Attention I mark 7 targets starting from east-southeast art basin creed dark randall fallow grain – group two engage the enemy, over and out_.

Both _In-Spire-d_ and _Deus Vult_ flashed back a single keyword.

[CFM] _Confirmed_

‘ _Here we go…_ ’ thought Florian to herself as she accelerated towards the enemy formation.

The Spire, Shrike, and Crusader made their way closer. Pinpoints of light blinked from the enemy ships as they, too, communicated. Being a military unit, it was likely that one ship was in command, as opposed to the loose confederation of privateers on the defending side. ‘ _Probably one of the Hunters,’_ considered the pilot. ‘ _Then again, the Arashi are not known for their organizational skills…’_

“Message from the spire!” called Evelyn, who was the first to notice the signal lamp from the allied ship. Both pilot and gunner had to turn around to see it, while Virgil fumbled to pull out his notes on the cipher in use.

Florian took a moment to do the substitutions in her head, but the message was short – they had switched to the agreed-upon battle shorthand, designed to keep messages quick in chaotic situations.

[KA MK BR RANDALL TA K] _Attention holding position engaging target Randall stay clear over_

She adjusted her course minutely to comply. Virgil was perplexed, however.

“They can hit from here? We’re something like three kilos away!”

“They said they have a long range setup. Pretty sure that’s a lumberjack.”

Karim gave a low whistle, suitably impressed. “Let’s hope they know how to use it, then.”

The Lumberjack Heavy Mortar fired, its loud report echoing in the mountain pass. The projectile arced upwards, almost too fast to track with the eye. About one second later, now some distance in front of the clustered formation of defenders, the fuse reached arming time, discarding the sabot in a puff of smoke. Its explosive payload armed, the shell continued onwards and upwards, reaching its peak at 1.5 kilometers before gravity began to exert its hold. It would have continued to fall until it hit the ground, but at 5.5 seconds the timing fuse ran out.

The shell exploded – or rather, it exploded multiple times, so closely spaced they blended into one. It ripped its carefully-layered casing into shreds, creating an expanding sphere of balloon-piercing shrapnel. The deadly cloud glittered as it dispersed in the breeze, just below and in front of the lead Arashi ship.

It was expertly done – without a single ranging shot the gunner had predicted the speed and trajectory well enough to place the projectile within striking distance of the target.

“Damn, that’s a good shot,” murmured Karim.

The Arashi response was quick. The Hunter-class ships – Basin, Dark, Fallow – slowed and turned, bringing their long-range guns to bear. The Raiders, smaller and slightly faster, made a beeline for the _In-Spire-d_.

Florian felt a hint of unease. The Hunters were going to provide covering fire, allowing the Raiders to swarm the Spire. _Deus Vult_ and _Frick_ were still well out of range, and if they engaged the Raiders they could get picked off by the Hunters. Only the _Frick_ had a chance of closing on the Hunters in time – it would be close.

“We’re engaging Basin, message that,” she ordered, setting the throttle to full.

Several things happened in quick succession.

“Enemy ship spotted!” came a yell from the upper deck.

True to his word, a ship with black-painted balloon canvas rounded the distant ridgeline with alarming speed. A quick zoom-in with the scope, and Virgil amended his words. “It’s a friendly! The Squid!”

Then, the air was filled with the distinctive crack of the Mercury field gun – from both the Spire and the Hunters – as the supersonic armor-piercing rounds were exchanged.

The Squid hurtled towards the Hunters from behind. Too late, the one designated Basin noticed the small ship and blinked a warning to its allies-

And then, a series of staccato thunderclaps drowned out the field guns. Literal lightning sprang from the _Spanish Inquisition_ , skittering over the nearest Hunter and jumping between the other two. Twelve bolts flashed rapidly, scattering sparks off metal parts and starting a few fires.

After a pause, there came a signal from the Squid.

[INT XR BR FD K] _Interrogative mark targets – engines disabled over_

Karim parsed their meaning first. “Man, those Angleans make some crazy guns. They disabled the Hunters with that display!”

“Not bad. Now it’s our turn – let’s keep the Raiders busy; engaging Grain!”

The _Deus Vult_ supplied the target names for the Squid, then there followed a quick exchange of messages. Florian adjusted course towards the closer ships, pulling ahead of the Crusader as they entered mid-range, about 500 meters from the leading Raider.

[BR GRAIN K], agreed the _In-Spire-d_.

[BR RANDALL K], came the _Deus Vult_ , targeting the second-in-line Raider.

[MK AF K] _holding position ready to assist_ , from the _Spanish Inquisition_. The trailing two Raiders had turned back to attack the ship that had disabled the Hunters, and the Squid began to dodge around them, keeping them distracted.

‘ _Seems we have three against two – I like those odds,’_ Florian smiled to herself.

The Shrike made a turn to port (not quite as tight a turning radius as the _Minnow_ , but no point complaining now), and continued at full speed. It was on course to slip in between the two enemy ships – the Raiders would have to choose between turning to pursue, or dealing with the Crusader.

Bright tracer rounds leapt out from the enemy’s forward guns, but nothing came close. They were testing range.

“Ready starboard guns!”

 _Frick_ came into range still moving quite fast. From astern, Florian heard the distant _bang-pop!_ of the _Deus Vult_ ’s Tempest missiles, just now at the edge of their effective range. The _Frick_ continued to move quite fast, and Florian could feel her heart pounding as the gatling guns began firing for effect. A few uncertain bursts were returned from the upper deck, courtesy of Virgil. Bullets filled the air, but few, if any, connected – the relative velocity of the ships ensured it.

After a handful of harrowing seconds, the gunfire subsided and Florian judged they were clear of the Raiders’ gun arcs. She turned hard to starboard, hoping to get the starboard guns pointed at the target called ‘Grain’. A quick check over her shoulder told her that ‘Randall’ had attempted to follow her, but had been discouraged from doing so by the Tempest cluster missiles detonating around them. ‘Grain’ would now be trying to turn on the spot, to bring its guns back into position, but Florian intended to keep strafing around them.

“Light ‘em up!”

Virgil complied at once, holding down the trigger. The gatling gun began chewing through ammunition at a steady pace, the bullets flying out…and hooking sharply to the right. He grimaced, realizing his mistake.

“Sorry, I forgot-“

“Lead the target, Virgil! Just do it!” yelled Evelyn.

He pushed the iron sights out in front of the target, then a bit further, then further. He was getting anxious – Karim was holding fire so the gatling’s armor piercing rounds had a chance to expose some vital components, but if he wasted this whole clip just trying to hit _something_ there wouldn’t be anything exposed.

Finally, with the gun pointed an alarming distance out in front of the target – the _Frick_ was moving fast! – he saw the glowing tracer rounds connect, hitting the aft armor and engines.

In the seat of the Hwacha, Karim mentally counted off the time. Accounting for those passing bursts, then time since the gatling had started shooting constantly; figure in the rate of fire and the standard ammo belt size, and the kid had maybe a quarter clip left. The gunner idly pointed the turret a bit further left, noticing how Virgil had struggled to properly lead the target and deciding to err on the side of caution. Just as predicted, Virgil stopped to reload, and Karim took the smallest of moments to check range, maybe lead the target a tiny bit more, then fired.

A barrage of twenty unguided rockets blasted out, each one packed with a little more gunpowder than they really should have had in the interest of a bit more _bang!_. The first few rockets slammed into the Raider’s engines, but rest of them…missed.

“Karim?”

He set the turret to reload from the internal magazine, and stood up, frowning. “I’m used to the _Minnow_ pointing dead ahead. I don’t know if I can lead the target much more, I was pretty close to the rotation limit. We’re moving too fast.”

Instead of setting about refilling the internal magazine while the turret finished reloading, he crossed to the port side gun.

“Alright, noted. Bringing us around.” Florian cut the throttle and set the _Frick_ rotating in place. The crew had determined that it was slightly quicker to pull a one-eighty than to reload the heavy gun, so this maneuver would allow them to get two full barrages off.

“Squid’s leading the other two on a good chase, the Hunters are still out of it, and the Crusader’s got ‘Randall’ occupied,” reported Evelyn, keeping track of the larger battle. “Virgil, quit fussing and ready port side, if you’ve reloaded it wrong we’ll deal with it later,” she added.

‘Grain’ hadn’t stopped turning, though, and with the Shrike slowing down to spin it was close to bringing its guns to bear.

“Take the shot if you have it!”

Gatling and Hwacha complied, spraying the Raider with both rockets and bullets. There was no point waiting for a weak spot if they were shooting back; best to try and damage the guns now. Despite Karim’s best efforts, a light mortar managed to return fire. Florian heard something above her rattle ominously as they took a few hits, but she knew the lack of yelling from the chief engineer meant she had it under control. “Okay, we’re moving. Take a 14 second break!” She brought the throttle back up to half, and began circling the other way. ‘Grain’ was a bit slow to turn and track – clearly they’d managed to damage an engine.

“14 whole seconds? That’s generous,” quipped Karim, quickly and expertly moving to refill the magazines of both Hwachas from the ammo bunker. “Starboard is ready to fire, I can give you port in a few.”

“I don’t think we can pull that trick again, they’re expecting it.” She frowned, trying to come up with a strategy that didn’t leave the Shrike exposed.

As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, the Signal box squawked something about group one engaging the enemy. Florian ignored it.

“Port is ready. Just get me a shot, I don’t care how.”

Suddenly, there was a shout from Evelyn. “Cap, hold course, NOW!”

Florian stopped turning and straightened out, pulling away from ‘Grain’. She trusted the engineer to be her extra set of eyes, and she’d obviously spotted some danger that the pilot hadn’t. She glanced away from the Raider for a moment – had one of the other ships caught up? – then glanced back just in time to see it.

The armor-piercing shell of a Mercury field gun slammed into – then _through_ – the Arashi ship. Protective armor became scrap metal in the blink of an eye. The _In-Spire-d_ , over one kilometer distant, finished blinking a quick ‘K’, but Florian didn’t need to hear Evelyn report it to know the preceding message had to have been a ‘stand clear’, because a second later, the Lumberjack hit, dead on.

The Raider’s balloon simply evaporated in a cloud of flechettes – there would be no chance for repairs. Florian glanced over the rest of the battle. She ignored the target as it dropped like a stone; sometimes it was better not to watch. She still heard the crash, far below.

“Uh, I don’t think I caught that last bit. From the Spire…” said Virgil.

“It wasn’t code, just the number one,” reported Evelyn.

“Oh, so they’re keeping score now? I think it’s our turn, Captain.”

“Alright, break time’s over,” said Florian, considering targets. The Raider designated ‘Randall’ had gotten worryingly close to the Spire, but a blast from both of _Deus Vult_ ’s forward-mounted Hwachas seemed to make them reconsider. The Hunters were starting to move again, though, flashing signal lamps with urgency.

“Let our allies know we’re moving to help the Squid,” she ordered, angling the ship back into battle.

**-Field-** Scouts report privateers have left Yesha en masse. Contact made by former Yeshan ace, Gentlewheatley. Expected to join our ranks. There is little resistance outside of SealedSword and Hardstrike from the Yeshan forces. Progress is being made beyond expectations. The estimated schedule has been moved up. Expect delivery in no less than three weeks. 

- **-Command-** Target location narrowed to Naufrage. Focus extra efforts into Arashi territory. Reports of counter-attack being moved into your area. Be vigilant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lumberjack is terrifying in the right hands. Your only hope is to find hard cover or shoot out the gun, otherwise you have a date with the ground coming up.  
> Of course all the vaguely-mentioned other ships and captains are more cameos! Especially the squid, bonus points if you can guess who the squid pilot is.  
> When I asked in the discord what people call the Shrike-spin move, I got some lovely suggestions which I must share:  
> "to turn on a feather's whim"  
> "The floofy poof whoof"  
> "360 no scope"  
> "shoop da whoop"


End file.
